Chapter 12: Laird
Disclaimer: Diana Gabaldon owns all rights to Outlander
For the most part, we stayed on the pallet, never uttering a word, or moving a muscle, except to eat a bite of cheese, and some stale bread. I was so anxious that even the ever-present whisky didn't seem to help me at all.
It was twilight before we heard the distinctive clip-clop of Randall's black stallion closing in on the creek. Murtagh waved at us, but he looked so peculiar. I had never seen him smile before. What on earth …?
Murtagh slid off the saddle, and slowly fastened the reins to the tree where our horses were tied. He sauntered toward us. When he got within three feet of us, he stood there with arms akimbo, the grin never leaving his face.
Jamie stood up to his full height, and said, "Weel, out wi' it, man. Give me Colum's decree, afore my hair turns to gray."
"He didna say a word."
"What? 'Tis no time for yer jokes, Murtagh. Now tell me what my uncle said."
"I'm speakin' the truth to ye, to be sure. Yer uncle is dead."
Taking a step forward, Jamie countered with, "I ken that fact, for I killed him myself."
Murtagh waved one hand in the air. "Not that uncle, ye dim-witted oaf … yer other uncle."
"Ye mean to tell me as Colum isna more?"
"Do ye suppose as ye have any other uncles? Aye, Colum died a fortnight ago."
"I dinna understand why ye're standin' there smilin', then."
"Because, Jamie, ye're now the Laird of Castle Leoch."
Jamie blinked several times while his brain absorbed the news. "What did ye say?"
"I said, ye're the new Laird. Och, lad … have ye lost yer hearin' along wi' yer brain?"
Seeing the perplexed expression on his face, I grabbed Jamie's hand. "You'd best bloody well sit down before you fall down."
He plunked down unceremoniously, repeating the words over and over. "Laird … Laird …? I canna understand it."
His cousin sat with us, and reached in his trouser pocket, pulling out an official looking document. Handing it to Jamie, he said, "Here 'tis, all proper and legal. Read for yerself."
It was a sheaf of parchment, proclaiming James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser as Laird, with signatures and marks by many of the clansmen. At the very bottom, it was duly sealed and signed by none other than that wily lawyer, Ned Gowan.
I was nearly as speechless as Jamie. I had imagined the two of us running for our lives, always sleeping with one eye open as it were. Instead, we were being ensconced as the MacKenzie clan rulers … but were we ready, or rather was my Scotsman ready for this … dubious honor?
My mind was in a veritable tizzy on the journey to Leoch; wondering how in the hell all this came to pass. Murtagh kept pivoting around on his stallion and urging us to get a move on. In any event, I gladly anticipated having a sturdy roof over my head once more, thick stone walls for protection, my surgery to keep the boredom away, and my Jamie to keep me warm at night.
Speaking of Jamie, he hadn't spoken since he slung himself onto his horse's saddle. I imagine his brain was a rapidly swirling fog of thoughts. My ideas as to what constituted a Lairdship were a mass of confusion too. What did one do as a Laird, anyway … besides listening to a mob of clansmen pledging their oaths and sentencing people to have the living daylights beaten out of them? Maybe Jamie's stint as ruler would be much less a reign of terror and would usher in a more tolerant and gentle era, like Camelot. These men could certainly do worse than adhere to a code of chivalry.
People began streaming out of the castle at our approach, and Murtagh was grinning widely, nodding to them as we walked on by. I felt like a celebrity, and Frank Sinatra came to mind—what a silly notion. So many of the crowd patted our horses or tugged on our clothing. It was disconcerting to say the least. At first, I tensed up, but the people seemed friendly enough; some even cheered when Jamie entered the courtyard astride Trom Laighe.
Above all the stramash, as Jamie would say, Mrs. Fitzgibbons came thundering toward us when we dismounted, shrieking, "Jamie Fraser, thank the lord. Ye've returned to us."
Wiping tears from her eyes, she voiced, "With all o' the sad tidings descendin' upon us these past few weeks, this is the one bright spot o' it all. God bless ye, lad. We'll set op the table fit for a king t'night, Oh, Jamie, glad I am to see ye."
She squeezed Jamie tightly, then turned to me swiftly, and hugging me to her ample bosom as well, added, "And ye as weel, Mistress. I've got yer room all set op for the two o' ye, and sent a maid to dust op all yer bottles o' potions and such down in the surgery."
When I was able to breathe again, I uttered, "Why thank you, Fitz."
Jamie took my hand, after raising an eyebrow, and we followed her and Murtagh, who was given the same hearty welcome.
The people congregated on all sides of us, and I gripped Jamie's hand tighter, afraid I'd get trampled by the throng. On the way to our room, the crowd petered out, returning to their work, or whatever it was they were engaged in.
I guess it was no surprise to find that our room was the very one that was previously occupied by Colum and his wife. Mrs. Fitzgibbons explained, "Now dinna go on about Letitia bein' shut out o' her private quarters. She offered to move, poor woman. She said there were a wee too many memories here, she did, and it would just reacquaint her with the grief she felt at his passin'." She probably felt liberated more than anything else, and this room reacquainted her with the guilt.
"Weel, I'll leave ye to yerselves for awhile. There's hot water in the cauldron still steamin' on the hearth, so ye can freshen op. Come down when ye're ready, and have a bite to eat."
Jamie stood ramrod straight, and looked about the room, feeling awkward, I'm sure. "Aye, ye've thought o' ever'thin', Fitz. Thank ye, kindly."
"You and the Mistress are verra welcome." She turned and bustled out through the door. I sighed in relief, and plopped onto the bed … a bed … a real bed, with a goose down filling in the mattress. I spread out my arms, and flopped back onto the pillow, laughing. Jamie followed suit.
Sitting up, suddenly, I asked, "Did you ever in your wildest dreams think you'd be here at Leoch, as its Laird?"
"Nay, I thought I'd be hangin' from the nearest tree, or leastways, lyin' in the dirt with a sword pokin' op through my chest."
My train of thought shifted, and I flung myself from the mattress, my eyes glued to some frocks lying across a chaise. "Oh, look, fresh clothes," I exclaimed. Sitting next to it, was a small wrapped package, with French writing on the label. "Soap—soap!" In my excitement, I raised the precious nod to hygiene up above my head." Pinch me, Scotty. This has to be a dream."
"Dream or no, we best change, and quickly. My belly's not likely to hold out much longer for want o' food, and soap isna on the menu."
Mrs. Fitzgibbons outdid herself. The table was piled high with bread, cheese, vegetables, a roasted pig, and several geese. If Jamie hadn't drawn my laces so tight, I might've been able to stuff a few more morsels into my mouth. It'd been so long since I ate such a sumptuous feast. One thing I did not greedily devour was the Rhenish. I decided that I was on my way to becoming a lush, and the very thought appalled me. So when Jamie lifted the bottle to pour in my glass I covered the rim with my hand to prevent him from doing so. "I think I'll just have some water if you don't mind."
His eyes bulged in their sockets. "Ye're sure?"
"Perfectly."
The celebration didn't end when the food was consumed. There was music and dancing, and the conversation was lively. Even his taciturn cousin, Murtagh, chipped in a few anecdotes at Jamie's expense, and he and my sweet Scotsman took turns twirling me around the hall. I hadn't danced like that in years.
When we finally said our goodnights, Jamie snared my waist and we walked back up to our suite. As we got ready for bed, Jamie asked, "When did ye decide to give op yer drinkin?"
"I haven't given it up … not altogether … I just feel that I don't need to get plastered."
"Plastered? Ah .. ye mean drunk, eh?"
"Yes, I mean drunk as a skunk."
Jamie smiled at me, knowingly. "Aye, 'tis a good thing. I was worrit the day we got marrit, as ye'd pass out afore making our marriage official as it were. And seein' as ye didna call to yer memory the bits and bobs of the ceremony, it only stood to reason as I wanted ye leastways bring to mind our weddin' night."
I wrapped my arms about his neck, and up on my tiptoes, tilted my head, looking straight into his lake-blue eyes. "Well, I'll remember every detail of this night, James Fraser, Laird of Castle Leoch. Would you like to incorporate something worthy of remembering?"
On cue, Jamie's kilt hit the floor, and his fire spread to my lips. We were under the covers in short order.
My lady's maid was at the door the next morning. I'd have to tell Mrs. Fitzgibbons that I was perfectly capable of washing and dressing myself, thank you very much. In any case, I had Jamie there to lace me up … or down as the case may be. I knew for a fact that my husband would in no way allow anyone besides me to aid him in the act of dressing himself either. Who started that idiotic tradition anyway? I would put that on the new laird's to do list.
We marched down the stairs after deeming ourselves presentable, and were swarmed by attendants to see to our victuals, glasses, cutlery, etc. I almost asked if our food taster was available just for the hell of it, but didn't want to fluster the culinary staff. It wouldn't do to alienate the kitchen help on Jamie's first official day as Leoch's ruler.
After a hearty breakfast, a conglomeration of clansmen led by Ned Gowan, converged on us, and took Jamie away to Colum's old sitting room to discuss his duties, I supposed. No matter, they were chattering a mile a minute in Gaelic, and truthfully, I found all the politics and schedule of meetings, a bloody bore. I retired to the surgery, my hands skimming over the familiar walls. It gave me a sense of peacefulness that I hadn't felt since we left the place.
That week, Ned conspired with Jamie to mete out justice with all the niggling judgment cases that came before him, and of course we had to endure the Oath Taking once more. There was quite a crowd for that particular ceremony, probably because of the change in leadership, and because of that fact, I ran into a certain blond-haired girl that had made my life miserable for a spell.
I enjoyed seeing patients and helping the castle inhabitants with their various maladies, and one day, it was freezing in the surgery, and drat it, I had forgotten my arisaid, and went back to fetch it. Walking along the corridor on the second floor, I noticed a young woman with long ash-blond hair traveling toward the west end of the castle. Looking behind her, she spotted me, and turned pale as a ghost. Laoghaire!